Bouncy Balls and Molotov Cocktails
by Librarygirl19
Summary: Mac and Co, are chosen to act as bodyguards for the President's daughter. *Complete*
1. Chapter 1

Standard disclaimer: None of these characters are mine (well, except for the ones that are). I'm just borrowing them from CBS to take them out for some fun. I promise to return them when I'm done. 😊

My disclaimer: Yes, the plot is a bit cliché and hackneyed, but it's all just meant to be a light-hearted little romp. Please, don't hold it against me.

11/25/17

Bouncy Balls and Molotov Cocktails

Chapter 1

 _When I was a kid, my favorite TV show was the Mr. Science Show which aired on Saturday mornings. Most of the other kids liked to watch cartoons, but I found that the Mr. Science Show taught me much more useful things I could use in my everyday life and one of the things I learned was that with some Borax Laundry Detergent, warm water, corn starch, and glue you can make your very own bouncy balls…_

"Okay, off the back wall, over to the mass specto-thingy, over to the microscope, off the front wall and into the waste basket, nothing but net," Jack said and took his shot.

The small, rubbery missile whizzed off the back wall, but completely missed the mass spectrometer, impacted with the corner of the counter and rebounded back in the direction it had come from.

"Incoming!" the robot called out helpfully.

Jack, Mac and Bozer dropped to the floor as the ball flew overhead, struck another wall and came back for another try at them. After three more passed, Mac reached up and grabbed a metal tray from the counter. He stood up holding the tray in front of him as a shield. The ball rebounded off the tray and crashed into a rack of test tubes; thankfully, empty test tubes.

"Oh, that one's on you," Jack said, standing and moving closer to examine the damage. "Mattie's gonna kick your ass…"

"You were the one who threw it," Mac said.

"Yeah, but you were the one holdin' the tray."

"Yeah, bu-."

"What the hell is going on in here?" Mattie demanded, striding into the lab and gazing around at the destruction in disgust.

"Oh, uh, we were just conducting an experiment on, uh…" Bozer started, then turned to Mac for assistance.

"Elasticity as relates to velocity in… compact form…" his house mate completed.

"Uh huh, and what was Jack doing for this experiment?" she asked.

"Cheering?" Jack said. "Go, science!"

"Whatever," Mattie said with an eye roll. "Mac, Bozer, I need you in the war room. Now."

"Wait, what about me?" Jack asked.

"You're going to stay here and clean up the mess."

"Aw, man!"

* * *

"So, what's going on, Mattie?" Mac asked as the three approached the Phoenix main control room, affectionately referred to as the "war room". Its LC Privacy Glass walls, which were normally clear, were currently frosted, preventing anyone from seeing into the room.

Mattie stopped and turned to face her two young operatives. "This mission is strictly need-to-know. If the Phoenix Foundation isn't chosen to conduct this mission, then you don't need to know anything. If we are chosen, then you'll be told the specifics."

"Okay," Mac said, exchanging confused looks with his house mate.

The diminutive head of the Phoenix Foundation opened the door to the control room and ushered the two men inside. Stepping into the room, Mac found three people waiting for them. There were two men dressed in identical crisp, non-descript, black suits with close-cropped hair and small wires that ran from one ear into the collars of their jackets. As far as Mac was concerned they may as well have had flashing neon signs over their heads that read "Secret Service". He'd never really understood why they were called the "secret" service considering that everything about them was so instantly recognizable.

But the very presence of the two agents piqued his interest and drew his attention to the third person in the room. The woman was seated in a swivel chair with her back to them, talking animatedly on a cell phone. One of the black suited agents leaned close to the woman and spoke softly to her.

"Sorry, Mel, I gotta go. I'll call you back later," the woman said and turned off her phone.

She swiveled the chair around to face them. She was a young woman, probably in her early twenties with long, straight, dark hair. She was very pretty, but was wearing entirely too much make up for Mac's tastes. She wore skinny jeans, a low-cut blouse and high-heeled boots. A gaudy, overly large, bejeweled bag hung from the crook of one elbow. She smiled smugly and gazed from Bozer to Mac appreciatively. She stood and moved closer to the two men, ignoring Mattie completely.

"Oh, now we're talking. This is much better."

She gave Bozer a once-over. "Nice," she murmured, then turned her attention to Mac. Her smiled widened and she turned back to the two agents who had accompanied her. "He'll do very nicely."

"So, does this mean that the Phoenix Foundation has been awarded the job?" Mattie asked the two agents.

"Apparently. We'll get back to you with more details in the next couple of days," one of the men responded. "Thank you for your time, Director Weber. Miss Blackwell…" He turned to the young woman and gestured toward the door.

"I'll be seeing you later," the girl said, giving Mac a lingering smile. She pulled on a pair of over-large, black sunglasses as she followed the two agents out the door.

"What was all that?" Mac asked when the door had closed behind the three visitors.

"That was Rebecca Blackwell."

"Blackwell?" Bozer asked. "As in President Blackwell? The president of the United States? That was his daughter?"

"That's right. And isn't she a charmer?"

"Okay, but what just happened?" Mac asked. "What will I do 'nicely' for?"

"Well, as you may know, Rebecca, also known as the White House Wildchild, attends New York University, barely. She's quite adept at ditching her Secret Service detail so she can go partying and club hopping. Now, starting next week, NYU is on spring break. Ms. Blackwell has decided that she wants to come to LA for spring break and she has made it very clear to her father that she doesn't want a Secret Service detail coming with her and 'cramping her style'. In a bid to keep her from going rogue, the president made a deal with her. He agreed that he would find some other, more discreet, agency to protect her and agreed that she could personally pick the primary agent. In return, she agreed not to ditch said agent."

"And she picked me?" Mac asked, a slight note of panic edging into his voice.

"Lucky you! You get to be her new BFF."

"But Mattie, I don't know anything about security details."

"Oh, you'll be fine. Besides, I'm not sending you alone. The rest of the team will be there as well. You're just going to be the one who stays close to her."

"Yeah, but the paparazzi follows her around. What if I get photographed with her? It'll destroy my ability to go undercover in the future."

"That is a bit of a concern," Mattie said. "We'll give you an alias, of course, and I think we can tweek your appearance a bit, to make you look a little less like… you. Oh, and do try **not** to get photographed."

"Oh, sure, no problem."

"Look, the press will be paying attention to her, not you. You're just going to be her latest piece of arm candy."

* * *

After the rest of the team joined them in the control room, Mattie informed them about the new mission as well.

"Ooh, does this mean we get to go clubbing?" Riley asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it does," Mattie said.

"Yes!"

"Although, you will still be on the clock…"

"So, what's Jack going to be doing?" Bozer asked. "He's not exactly going to fit in with the club crowd…"

"Hey!" the Texan snapped. "Just because I'm over 30 doesn't make me a senior citizen. I do still have a pulse. I'll fit in just fine."

"Ooh, okay, somebody's a little touchy. So, how are we going to make Mac look less like Mac? You want me to make some prosthetics or something?"

"No, I don't think we need to go that dramatic," Mattie said. "Maybe some new clothes, just a bit of a makeover. Cage, Riley, do you two think you could take Baby Genius, here, shopping for a new wardrobe? Here." Mattie handed a card to Riley.

"Ooh, a Phoenix Foundation procurement card," Riley said. "Do we have a spending limit?"

"Not this time. Knock yourselves out."

"Oh, this is going to be fun," Cage said.

Both women turned to Mac with big smiles on their faces.

"Oh, no, come on, Mattie, I can get my own clothes. I don't need help," Mac said.

"Yeah, but Rebecca Blackwell is known for her fashion sense," Mattie said. "You're going to need to fit in with that and I'm not sure you can handle that on your own. Now, be a good little nerd and go with the ladies."

"Let's go, Mac," Riley sang teasingly.

Jack and Bozer burst out laughing as he reluctantly stood, his expression suggesting that he would have rather faced a firing squad. Mac glared at them for a moment before following Cage and Riley out of the office. "Someone, please, kill me now," he muttered under his breath as he went.

* * *

"Come on out, Mac. We need to see how it looks," Cage called into the dressing room.

"Yeah, yeah, just a second."

Cage returned to the plush couch, where Riley was waiting and sat down next to her. The shop where they took Mac was one of the higher end places on Rodeo Drive. Sure, Beverly Hills was a bit far to go for a shopping trip, but Riley and Cage felt it was worth it. Cage said it would be good for Mac to get a taste of the world he would be inhabiting while on this mission. She also thought it might help him get into character.

Bethany, the personal stylist who had been assigned to assist them, approached the couch with a tray bearing an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and three tall glasses. She set the tray on the nearby coffee table.

"Would you ladies care for some champagne while you wait for your…friend?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, please," Riley said eagerly.

"So, which one of you lucky ladies is with the young man?" the sales girl asked conversationally while she poured the sparkling wine into the crystal flutes.

"Well, we sort of share him," Cage said, giving a quick wink to Riley.

"Yes," the dark-haired computer tech said, taking Cage's hand. "The three of us are very close."

To her credit, Bethany didn't even bat an eye. "Excellent. So, are we shopping for a particular event or a particular look?"

"Well, we're just trying to update his wardrobe, you know, get him out of his comfort zone a little bit," Riley said.

"I see."

"Okay, these pants are way too tight," Mac said as he came out from the dressing room wearing a pair of black leather pants that Cage had insisted he try on. "I can barely sit down in them."

"No, no, they look great," Cage said. "You've got a cute bum, you should show it off. Besides, you're not going to be sitting in them that much. As long as you can dance in them, you'll be fine. We'll definitely take these. But the shirt is not cutting it."

Bethany said, "You know, we just got some really nice silk shirts in. He would look fabulous in the maroon."

Mac wrinkled his nose at this suggestion. "Silk, really? I don't know…"

"Mac, you're wearing leather pants. You can't wear a thermal shirt with leather pants. It's not allowed," Riley said.

"Says who?"

"The fashion police."

Glancing around at the three women, he saw they were all in agreement. "Fine," he said with a sigh. He was beginning to feel like a living, breathing Ken doll that these women were having entirely too much fun playing dress up with.

"I'll be right back," Bethany said and walked away.

Spying the champagne bottle and the third glass, Mac gestured to it and said, "Pour me some of that. I'm going to need it."

* * *

It was well after nine at night when Mac finally made it back home with his numerous bags and boxes in tow. He dropped them all unceremoniously in the living room, went to the fridge, grabbed a beer, and headed to the terrace. He flopped down in the closest chair and took a long pull from his bottle. Jack and Bozer were seated across the fire pit from him and they exchanged amused looks.

"So, how'd it go?" Bozer asked.

"Don't ask."

"That bad, huh?" Jack said.

"I now know what hell truly is; clothes shopping with women. They made me try on everything. I already know what sizes I wear, but no, I had to try it on and then I had to show it to them, and everyone else in the store. And then they had to make their comments. It was humiliating."

Jack chucked. "Yeah, been there, done that."

"I mean, no wonder it takes women hours to shop. I don't get it. You go to the store, you buy what you like, and you leave. Why is that so difficult for them? Why do they have to try everything on and get everybody's opinion on it?"

"Well, clothes are a very important part of a woman's arsenal, so to speak. And women have it a lot harder than most men realize. I mean, let's face it, most men have the attention span of a gnat, so women have to hold that attention somehow. And, rightly or wrongly, women get judged by their appearance, and their clothes, much more than men do. So, they have to put more thought into their choices than men do."

Bozer and Mac exchanged glances. "Wow, Jack," Bozer said, "That was, like, insightful."

"Hey, don't act so surprised. I have my moments. Especially when I've got a few beers in me."

"Man, I will be so happy when this op is finally over with," Mac said.

"Dude, it hasn't even really started yet," Jack said.

"I know," he groaned. "I know."

-TBC-


	2. Chapter 2

12/4/17

Bouncy Balls and Molotov Cocktails

Chapter 2

The nightclub was loud and crowded. Overhead, the lights strobed and whirled in complex patterns, in every color of the rainbow. The music pounded and the club's patrons shrieked and yelled to each other. For a moment Mac almost felt like he was back in the chaos of the war in Afghanistan and he thanked any and every God who might be listening that he didn't suffer from PTSD. He wondered how Jack was faring. The Delta operative had seen far more combat situations than Mac ever had.

The other members of the team were positioned at strategic locations throughout the club. Mac was on the dance floor and it was taking most of his concentration Just to keep Rebecca in his sights. He had been dancing with her and her friend from NYU, Melanie Washington, but Rebecca had pointed out that none of the guys were going to flirt with them if he was hovering over them. So, he had backed off and given them some space. Now, he was questioning the wisdom of that decision.

On the one hand, the crowded dance floor was good in that it meant that he really didn't have to dance, for which he was grateful. He could simply shuffle his feet around in time to the music, which wasn't to his taste anyway. On the other hand, he'd had his ass pinched more times than he could count, but he couldn't tell who, in the crowd, had done the pinching. He swore his butt was going to be black and blue before the night was over.

Glancing over at Rebecca, he saw that she was flirting with a dark haired, young man. The man's friend was flirting with Rebecca's friend, but he was starting to get a bit aggressive and Melanie didn't appear to be receptive to his advances. But he didn't appear to be taking the hint. Now, technically speaking, Mac and his team were only responsible for Rebecca, but Mac was not about to just stand by and let some drunk asshole harass Melanie.

Pushing his way through the press of people, he moved to stand beside Melanie and slipped his arm around her waist. "Hey, Babe, I've been looking all over for you," he said to her. Turning to the asshole, he said, "Who's this?"

"Oh, uh, this is Robert," Melanie said.

"Well, Robert, thanks for looking after my girl, but you can run along now."

"Excuse me?" Robert said. He was taller than Mac by at least two inches and probably outweighed him by thirty pounds, of muscle. Mac hadn't really noticed that before now.

"Hey, Craig, this guy's trying to muscle in on us," Robert said to his equally well-muscled friend.

"Dude, what's your problem?" Craig asked, tearing his attention away from Rebecca. "We got here first. Go find your own chick."

"Chick?" Rebecca demanded angrily. "I am not your chick!"

"Yo, pipe down Princess, we got this."

Oh, crap, this is getting out of hand, Mac thought. This is so not what I meant to happen. He glanced around looking for some kind of assistance, when Jack stepped up, saying, "Is there a problem here, Gentlemen?"

"Hey, Pops, mind your own business," Craig said.

"Sorry, Junior, but I'm making this my business."

"Yeah, what are you going to do? The two of us are bigger than the two of you," Robert said.

"Yeah, but my two friends Heckler and Koch, here, kind of even the odds, don't you think?" Jack asked opening his suit jacket and showing them the gun in his shoulder holster. "And we think it's time for you boys to move on."

"Uh, yeah, whatever. Let's go," Craig said and pulled his friend away. "These two skanks aren't worth it."

"What the hell?!" Rebecca demanded, rounding on Mac. "They were just flirting with us."

"Didn't you notice that Melanie wasn't enjoying the attention?" he asked.

"Oh, come on, Mel, lighten up. It's spring break, get a little wild!"

When Melanie looked away uncomfortable, Mac asked her, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, thanks for the help. That guy was a serious creep."

"Well, we may as well leave," Rebecca said. "You guys have pretty much ruined the atmosphere. No one else is going to hit on us now. Let's go, Mel."

Grabbing her friend's arms, she started to make her way off the dance floor, pulling Melanie along behind her.

"Hey, wait!" Mac called after her. "You can't just leave. We have to get our team together."

* * *

It took a few minutes to gather the team together and organize the three vehicles which would transport them. In the first SUV were two Phoenix operatives. The second vehicle was the limo with Rebecca, Mac, Melanie, and Bozer. Jack sat in the front with the Phoenix driver. Cage and Riley brought up the rear in another SUV.

Jack lowered the partition that separated the front of the limo from the passenger area and leaned into the rear compartment. "So, are we heading back to the hotel?" he asked.

"Back to the hotel? It's only one in the morning. It's still early," Rebecca said. "Besides, I told Trent that I would stop by his club."

"Who's Trent?" Mac asked.

"He's sort of like my boyfriend."

"How can he 'sort of' be your boyfriend?" Bozer asked.

"Well, I mean, we see each other fairly regularly, but we're not, like, exclusive or anything."

"Oh."

"Okay, so where are we going now?" Jack asked breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Rebecca gave him the name and address of the club and Jack verified that the rest of the team had gotten the information over their ear buds.

"Uh, so, Melanie, how did you and Rebecca meet?" Mac asked, trying to make conversation as the little convoy made its way through the LA traffic. "Did you two have some classes together?"

"Oh, uh, actually I was hired to tutor Bex. I've been working with her all year. She invited me to come here to LA for spring break, so…"

"Oh, well, that's nice…"

Like the first club they'd gone to, there was a line of people waiting to get inside. Rebecca told the driver to just pull up to the curb, saying that she could get them right in. Unlike the first one, this club had several photographers waiting outside the entrance, and as Rebecca and her entourage emerged, they began swarming like gnats, taking pictures and firing questions like bullets.

"Bex, is it true you're about to get expelled from NYU?"

"Bex, is it true your father threatened to cut you off financially if you do get expelled?"

"Bex, is it true you failed to even turn up for any of your finals?"

"Bex, who's the new man?"

Mac had moved to walk beside Rebecca, as a good bodyguard should. He did his best to keep his head down and turned away, but he couldn't avoid all of the photographers. He almost physically flinched at every flash aimed in his direction. The techs at the Phoenix had put some temporary dye in his hair to darken it from his natural ash blond to more of a light brown. Colored contacts changed his blue eyes to brown as well. Rebecca, however, simply sailed past all the photographers without ever looking either right or left, or acknowledging their pointed questions.

"Uh, they are such vultures!" she complained once they were inside the club. Although Mac noted that when the limo driver had offered to take them around to the back entrance, Rebecca had told him that part of the point of going to these clubs was to be seen doing so.

"Miles!" she cried out as the club's host stepped forward to greet them. The two of them did that annoying air-kiss-thing to both cheeks that Mac found so completely pretentious. "Miles, can you find us a nice, big table towards the back? Oh, and have someone let Trent know that I'm here."

"For you? I'll make a table ready," the host responded. "Just give me a minute to move some people around and I'll be right back."

Mac glanced over at Rebecca and said, "Are you going to let that guy oust someone from their table just so that we can have it?"

"Well, I'm not going to just wait around for a table to open up."

He opened his mouth to say something more, but thought better of it. He was here simply to protect Rebecca not to try to change her. The fact that she was a self-absorbed, spoiled brat was not his problem. That was something for the president to deal with and he did not envy the man.

As he had promised, the host returned within a few minutes and he led them to a relatively quiet round table in a far corner of the club. The table was surrounded by horseshoe-shaped banquet seating. Most of them slid onto the seat. Jack hung back.

"Listen, I'm going to go hang out at the bar. It's got pretty good sight lines to the door. I'll also deploy the Phoenix boys around the club," he said to Mac.

"Okay, and thanks, Jack." Mac knew that Jack was taking care of most of the logistical details of this mission. Yes, it freed Mac up to concentrate on Rebecca, but it was also that Jack was simply more experienced dealing with this kind of mission and Mac was grateful to have him here for that. He was also grateful to have Jack watching not only Rebecca's back, but his as well.

As Jack walked away, a cocktail waitress approached the table and asked if any of them wanted to order any drinks. While everyone else declined, Rebecca spoke up, "Yes, I'd like a rum and Coke."

"Don't you think you've had enough alcohol?" Mac asked. He knew that she'd been doing shots at the other bar.

"No. What's the big deal? It's not like I'm driving."

He had to admit that she had a point and, once again, he reminded himself that he was responsible for her physical state, not her mental state. If she wanted to drink like a fish, so long as she didn't choke on her own vomit, it was none of his concern. He turned away from her and saw a man approaching the table. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair that was just beginning to gray at the temples. He appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties. He wore a stylish, black suit with no tie.

"Trent!" Rebecca squealed and jumped up from the table. Before Mac could even react, she ran to the man and threw her arms around his neck. He bent toward her and they shared a kiss that was long enough and passionate enough that Mac found himself beginning to blush.

They spoke quietly together for a few minutes, then Trent slid his arm around Rebecca's waist and started to lead her away from the table. Mac slid out and followed after them. Aware of his presence, the older man turned to face him.

"Hey, Buddy, do you mind? The lady and I would like to have a few minutes alone," Trent said.

"No, I don't mind," Mac said. "As long as you stay within my line of sight."

"Excuse me?"

"Trent, it's okay," Rebecca said. "This is Mac. He's my new bodyguard."

"He's Secret Service? How old is he, fifteen?"

"Oh, come on, Trent, don't be a jerk."

"I'm sorry, but since when do Secret Service agents look like they could be members of the latest boy band?"

"I'm not in the Secret Service," Mac said. "I am a government agent, as are my team mates. We're just not Secret Service."

"Yeah, that's nice, Matt, but I can take care of Bex myself."

"It's Mac, with a 'c'."

"Whatever. We don't really need you or your team. We're good."

"That's not your call," Mac said.

"Lo-."

"Just give us a second," Rebecca said to Mac, interrupting Trent.

She led him a few feet away, but they stayed within sight of Mac.

"Trent, why are you being like this?" she asked him.

"I don't like this. You've never brought bodyguards here before. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do. It's just…"

"So, just ditch this guy and let's head over to my place."

"I can't. I promised my dad. It's the only reason he let me come to LA."

"Well, what's up with this guy? Where's your usual security detail?"

"I got my dad to let me pick my bodyguards. I got sick of looking at all those black suits and buzz cuts."

"Yeah, well, I don't like this guy," Trent said.

"How can you not like him? You don't even know him. And what's the big deal? How's he any worse than the suits? At least he and his team blend in a little better."

"Yeah, but none of the suits ever looked like him."

"What's that supposed to mean? Oh, you're jealous!"

"I am not jealous!" Trent snapped, his attitude suddenly aggressive. "Or at least I wasn't a minute ago, but maybe I should be. Are you sleeping with him?"

"What? No!"

"Yeah, but you want to. You said yourself that you 'picked' him."

"Hey, considering all the hot little cocktail waitresses around here, maybe I should be getting jealous, too," Rebecca said.

"That's different!"

"How do you figure that?"

"Don't fuck around with me, Bex!" he said and grabbed her arm roughly for emphasis.

"Ow! Hey!"

Mac immediately moved to intervene. "Okay, that's enough! Take your hands off her."

Somewhat to his surprise, Trent immediately backed off. "I don't need this shit!" he snapped, walking away. "Have a nice time with the pretty boy."

"Trent, wait! Shit!" Rebecca stamped her foot in pure frustration. She turned back to Mac. "To hell with him. This night's ruined. Let's just go back to the hotel."

-TBC-


	3. Chapter 3

12/13/17

Bouncy Balls and Molotov Cocktails

Chapter 3

It was well after noon when Rebecca finally emerged from her bedroom of the large, two-bedroom hotel suite. Melanie had slept in the suite's second bedroom while Mac had slept on the couch in the sitting room. Having served in the Army and currently working as a field operative, he had the ability to sleep anywhere, at any time. Of course, this being a five-star hotel, the couch was actually quite comfortable, certainly more comfortable than any military barrack.

The Phoenix Foundation had also booked the two adjacent rooms and a room across the hall. Jack and Bozer were in the room to the west. Cage and Riley in the room to the east. Two more Phoenix operatives were in the room across the hall.

Rebecca emerged from her room wearing only an oversized pink t-shirt, her hair still sleep-tousled and her mascara smudged around her eyes, giving her the look of a hungover raccoon. She found most of her security team gathered in the sitting room. Jack, Bozer and Riley were sitting on the floor around the coffee table playing cards. Cage was reading in an armchair and Mac was helping Melanie with advanced calculus at the small table by the room's picture window. Their rooms were on the fifteenth floor of the twenty-story building and the window offered a scenic view of the ocean.

"Oh, my God, you people are up way too early," Rebecca groaned, flopping down on the couch and messaging her temples.

"It's almost one o'clock, Princess," Jack said.

"Yeah? Like I said, way too early. Hey, is there anything in that mini-fridge?"

"Yeah, there's some bottled water, if you want it," Mac said.

"I don't want water. I want alcohol."

"You're going to start drinking again, already?" Melanie asked.

"You got a better cure for a hangover?"

"Uh, I don't think that's a very good idea," Mac said.

"I don't think I asked you," Rebecca snapped.

Mac shook his head. He should have known better. How many times did he have to remind himself that he was only responsible for her physical well-being? It just went against his nature to stand idly by when someone obviously needed help. It was how he was raised and it was simply how he was wired. But he had to keep telling himself that you can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved. And Rebecca Blackwell certainly seemed hell bent on self-destruction.

"So, Melanie," Rebecca said, after she'd retrieved a small bottle of vodka from the mini-fridge. "Where do you want to go tonight?"

"I don't really care, it's up to you," the other girl said rather frostily.

"What's got your panties in a twist?"

"Is it true what that photographer said, you didn't show up for your finals?"

Rebecca sighed dramatically. "Okay, yeah, it's true. So, what?"

"What the hell, Bex! What was the point of all that work we did this year? I mean, you didn't show up? You didn't even try?"

"I just didn't see the point. I was going to fail anyway."

"I've been working with you all year. You were improving. If you had just tried, I'm sure you would have at least passed."

Rebecca gave a snort of derision. "Just passing is not good enough for my father. Hell, nothing short of a 4.0 is good enough for him and we both know that wasn't going to happen. So, why bother."

"Well, maybe if you'd bother to go to class once in a while, instead of-."

"Oh, give it a rest, Mel! Why do you care anyway? They're my grades, not yours."

"Really? Because I spent so much time tutoring you that my grades suffered. And if you get kicked out of school, what am I supposed to do? I don't have a rich, oil baron daddy. I'm on scholarship. I need this tutoring job."

"So, just get another job."

"Oh, just like that, huh? Except somehow, I don't think anyone's going to want to hire the tutor that let the president's daughter fail all her classes."

Turning back to Mac, Melanie said, "Thank you for your help, MacGyver." She stood and walked quickly to her room, closing the door behind her.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group, eventually broken when Rebecca said, "It's not my fault if her grades fell and it's not my job to make sure she can pay her bills."

For once Mac heeded his own advice and kept his mouth shut. After a long moment this silence was broken by the sound of Taylor Swift playing from Rebecca's pink, glittery cell phone lying on the coffee table. She leaned forward and picked it up.

Looking down at the display, she said, "Oh, crap, it's my dad. Here, you answer it. Tell him I'm in the shower." She tossed the phone to Mac.

"You want me to lie to your father? The president of the United States? You do know I technically work for him?"

"Oh, whatever. Just answer it."

Mac took a second to compose himself then answered the phone, "Uh, hello?"

"Hello?" The voice on the other end was very familiar, with its famous Texan drawl. That voice was currently sounding very suspicious. "Who is this?"

"Mr. President, sir, uh, my name is MacGyver. I'm with the Phoenix Foundation security detail assigned to you daughter…"

"Oh, yes, sorry, Martin gave me your name. So, let me guess, Rebecca saw my name on the display and was too afraid to answer the phone herself?"

"Yes, sir."

"But she's standing right there, shaking her head at you, isn't she?"

"Uh, yes, sir.

"Yeah, put her on the phone for me, will you, Son?"

"Yes, sir."

Mac held the phone out to her. Rebecca shook her head vehemently, but Mac just gave her a stern look and said, "He knows you're right here."

The younger woman made a face at him, but stood and retrieved her phone. She took a deep breath, shook her tangled hair off her face and said in a bright, sunny voice, "Hi, Daddy!"

Everyone in the room had to look away to hide their looks of disgust.

"What? You already got my grades?... Wait, I can explain about that… No, it was not Melanie's fault. She tried… Wait, you can't do that. I'm an adult… But, Daddy!... Fine." She held the phone out to Mac. "He wants to talk to you."

Mac accepted the phone and watched as Rebecca stomped off to her room and slammed the door behind her. "Uh, yes, sir?" he said into the phone.

"Mr. MacGyver, I would like to thank you and your team for keeping my daughter safe, but I'm going to be cutting her spring break short. Her usual Secret Service detail will be coming to collect her at 8 AM sharp tomorrow morning. Until then, if you could stay with her and, please, do not let her leave the hotel. I think she's had enough fun for the week."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll have Martin contact your director with more details about the transfer. She can pass them on to you. Again, I thank you for your assistance."

Ending the call, Mac placed the phone on the coffee table and informed the rest of the team about the president's decision.

"Oh, hallelujah!" Jack cried out. "I can go home and sleep in my own bed. As posh as this place is, it kind of gives me the willies. These kinds of places usually do. The staff are always so helpful and obsequious and smiley, and it's creepy as hell."

"Wow, I'm impressed that you actually know the meaning of the word obsequious," Riley said.

"Hey, I'm not as dumb as I look… wait, no." He glared at the others as they all burst out laughing.

"You know, Jack, only you would find good customer service creepy," Cage said.

"It doesn't feel like good customer service, it just feels like surveillance."

"You've been doing this job for too long," Bozer said.

"Hey, just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean there aren't actually people out to get you."

"Whatever you say, Jack."

The group was just settling down around the coffee table, Cage and Mac having been enticed to join the card game, when the door to Rebecca's room opened and she emerged once again. She'd brushed her dark hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. She'd also washed her face and donned jeans and, ironically, an NYU sweatshirt.

She snatched her phone off the coffee table and said, "I'm going down to the restaurant for some breakfast."

"Don't mean lunch?" Jack asked pointedly.

"Whatever," she said and started for the door.

Mac stood quickly. "Wait, I have to go with you."

She stopped and turned back to him, her expression suddenly coy and inviting. "Okay," she said. "That'll be nice, just the two of us…"

She reached out and made a show of "adjusting" the collar of Mac's dark green, button-down shirt. Then she ran her hands across his shoulders and smiled, making plenty of heavy eye contact.

"Uh, actually, Riley, why don't you join us?" he asked quickly.

"Uh, sure, okay."

With a slight huff, Rebecca turned back to the door and started out to the hall. With the other woman's back turned, Riley mouthed, "Why me?" Mac just gave her an imploring look and gestured for her to follow. With a roll of her eyes, she stood and accompanied him out to the hall.

Once out in the hall the two Phoenix operatives fell a few feet behind Rebecca. Riley leaned close to Mac and asked quietly, "Why did you want me to come along?"

"Well, you're a woman, you're close to her age… talk to her."

"Yeah, but why not bring Cage? Let her do some of her spooky Jedi Mind Tricks."

"I don't know, I just think she'd relate to you better."

"Alright, but admit it, you just didn't want to be alone with her."

"Yeah, that too."

* * *

The restaurant was small and cozy, with a '50s, diner-style décor. They were seated near the back. Rebecca ordered coffee and French toast. Mac and Riley just had coffee. As they sat in awkward silence waiting for their orders, Mac glanced over and saw Jack slip in and take a seat at the counter near the entrance. A second or two after Jack, Cage and Bozer came in and sat down not far from their table, further at the back.

Just when the silence at the table was about to reach the uncomfortable level, Rebecca's phone began playing another Taylor Swift song, although not the same one it had played earlier. She picked it up and looked down at the display. She tapped the screen a few times, a smile blossoming on her face.

"Good news?" Mac asked.

"It's Trent, he apologized for being such a dick last night. He wants to see me tonight."

"Uh, yeah, that's not going to happen. Your father was quite clear. You're not to leave the hotel until your Secret Service detail comes to get you in the morning."

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me! You won't even let me go and say goodbye to him? We can be back in plenty of time to meet my father's stormtroopers. They'll never even know."

"I'm sorry, but your father gave his orders and I gave my word. You're staying in the hotel."

"Ugh, why does everyone act like I'm being so irresponsible? What is wrong with wanting to have some fun? I'm 21 years old. I'm in college. When else am I going to be able to do this? Besides, everyone does it. I mean, come on, you two aren't much older than me. What were you doing at 21?"

"At 21, I was disarming bombs in Afghanistan," Mac said.

"Really? So, you never went to college?"

"Well, I went to MIT for a year. I graduated high school early, so I got into MIT at seventeen. But after I turned eighteen, I decided to join the Army."

"Okay, wait, you got into MIT at seventeen, and you left to join the Army? Who does that?"

Mac sighed, he got this question a lot. "I don't know how to explain it, I just felt that I needed to do more."

"Okay, so you're just weird," she said, dismissing him. She turned to Riley "But you seem pretty hip. What were you doing at 21? Let me guess, partying and hanging with your friends?"

"Actually, I was in a maximum-security prison."

"You were in prison?"

"Yeah, I, uh, kinda hacked into the NSA."

"Oh, my God, is everyone at the Phoenix Foundation some kind of Brainiac freakazoid?"

"Well, we are, at least, nominally a think tank," Mac pointed out.

"Well, what about Bozer? He seems normal."

"Bozer went to film school for a year or so after high school, but he had to drop out because he ran out of money. But he's always known what he wanted to do and he's been working on perfecting his craft for years."

"And Jack?"

Both Mac and Riley snickered quietly for a minute at the question. "Okay, you got us there. Jack probably was partying at 21," Mac said. "But it would have only been a couple of years after that that he joined the Army and went over to fight in the first Gulf War. Yeah, Jack plays hard, but he also works hard and he understands that there is a proper time for both."

"Okay, what about the other one, what's-her-name, the blonde Australian?"

"Cage?" Riley asked, musing. She looked quizzically at Mac.

He shook his head, equally at a loss. "I don't know what Cage would have been doing at 21." He glanced over at the blonde operative and made a mental note to ask her that very question at the next opportunity. Although he highly doubted that he would get a straight answer. She rarely ever did when asked about her past.

"Well, that's just great that all of you always knew what you wanted to do with your lives, but some of us don't," Rebecca said. "Some of us have no idea what we want to do with our lives."

"There's nothing wrong with not knowing," Riley said. "Like you said, you're only 21. You've still got time to figure it out. But you do need to be trying to figure it out. When I was 21, I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life either. In fact, if you'd told me a year ago that I'd be working for the government, I'd have laughed at you. But sometimes things just work out. But you can't just wait around and wait for things to happen for you. You have to help them along. You have to help yourself.

"And you can't let yourself fall in with the wrong crowd. Believe me, I can personally attest to that. You fall in with the wrong crowd and bad things happen. It's all fun and games until someone ends up in prison."

"Well, I'm not in with the wrong crowd," Rebecca said.

"Really? What about this Trent guy?" Mac asked. "He seems a little shady to me. I mean, for starters, isn't he a little old for you?"

"What? I like older men. What's wrong with that?" Rebecca asked. She cast a sly glance over at Jack. "Come on, Riley, you have to agree with me that Jack's kinda sexy…"

"Oh, eww!" Riley cried out. "No, Jack is like a father to me and that's just wrong."

"Yeah, well he can be my daddy…"

Riley closed her eyes, stuck her fingers in her ears, and sang softly, "La, la, la, la, I can't hear you."

"Yeah," Mac said. "Please, don't tell Jack you think he's hot. We'll never hear the end of it."

"Aw, are you feeling left out?" Rebecca asked. "Don't worry, I like men who are only slightly older, too." She smiled at him and ran her fingers lightly over the back of his hand.

"Do you always do this?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Avoid conversations you don't want to have by flirting?"

"No, sometimes I revert to being flat out rude," she said, suddenly cold.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"You know what? Since I'm not allowed to leave the hotel, I'm going to go upstairs and change into my bikini, then I'm going to go hang out by the pool. Does that meet with my father's approval?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Good." She signed the check that the waitress had dropped off, charging the meal to her room. Then she stood and headed out of the restaurant, the team fell in behind her, like ducklings trailing after their mother.

-TBC-


	4. Chapter 4

12/18/17

Bouncy Balls and Molotov Cocktails

Chapter 4

"Hey, Mac, since the mission got cut short, you didn't even get to wear most of your stylin' new clothes," Riley said.

The team was once again gathered in the sitting room of Rebecca's suite. They were all sitting around the coffee table eating room service pizza. Rebecca had gotten a salad, which she'd immediately taken to her room. She'd been frosty and almost silent for the entire afternoon, which she had mostly spent by the hotel's outdoor pool, sipping frozen margaritas with headphones on, listening to music.

Mac, although a native Californian and a blond, had that ultra-fair, if-I-were-any-more-pale-I'd-be-translucent complexion of a natural redhead and therefore couldn't stay with Rebecca the entire time. Even slathered in sunscreen, he was just too prone to burn after an hour or so. Rebecca, whose skin was already tanned, seemed impervious to the sun's brutal rays and was apparently making a point to stay out as long as possible.

So, Mac and Cage, the other melanin-challenged member of the team, spent most of the afternoon safely ensconced in the shade of a nearby cabana, while Jack, Riley, and Bozer volunteered to "brave" the sun and stay close to Rebecca. Melanie had laid out with them for a couple of hours, but had gotten bored and spent the rest of the time in the hotel's rather impressive gym.

"Yes, and that's a good thing. Now, I can return all those clothes," Mac said.

"Oh, don't do that," Cage said.

"Yeah," Bozer agreed. "You never know, you might have to go undercover as a male escort sometime."

"Yeah, somehow I don't see that ever happening."

"Hey, never say never," Jack said. "I remember a few years back, I was on this mission in Brazil-."

"Uh, Jack," Riley interrupted. "I don't think that story is going to be appropriate for mixed company…"

"Oh, right, sorry," the Delta operative said, glancing over at Melanie, who had been listening to all the banter in wide-eyed silence.

"Actually, I meant me," Riley said.

"Wow, you guys must live such exciting lives," Melanie said.

"Well, it can be," Mac said. "But most of the time you have only short bursts of intense action and then long intervals of… this." He gestured around at the group. "Sitting around, doing nothing."

"It still sounds more exciting than economics, which is my major."

"Well, now, there's something to be said for boring," Jack said. "It may not be exciting, but no one's trying to kill you or blow you up or… You get the idea. And the world needs economists too. Hell, this country could certainly use a few good ones."

The team stayed in the sitting room, eating and watching pay-per-view movies until around eleven o'clock, when Melanie said she needed to get some sleep. Everyone said good night and headed to their respective rooms. Rebecca had not emerged once all evening and Mac was amazed at the girl's ability to hold a grudge.

He kicked off his shoes and laid down on the couch fully clothed. No, there hadn't been any real threats to Rebecca, but just in case, he needed to be ready to act quickly. He pulled a blanket over himself and settled in for the night. He stared up at the ceiling. He wasn't sleepy. The hotel suite was well sound proofed and he couldn't hear any noises from the other rooms or even the hall. He wasn't used to so much quiet. He wasn't sure how long he'd lain there, staring into the darkness, letting his busy thoughts chase themselves around his head, when he heard the soft sound of a door opening and closing.

Being on the fifteenth floor, no one had bothered to close the curtains on the picture window, so there was a fair amount of light in the room. Enough light to allow him so see the vague outline of Rebecca moving toward the door to the hall. Damn, she was good, he thought. If he hadn't already been awake, he might not have heard her.

He could just make out that she was wearing some kind of sparkly minidress and was carrying a pair of high heels. He wasn't sure why he didn't just get up and bust her, but he didn't. Maybe it was that naïve, trusting part of his brain, that was convinced that she wouldn't go through with it, she would come to her senses and return to her room, that won out over the logical part of his brain that knew she wouldn't, that was her MO, wasn't it?

He was finally galvanized into action when he heard the soft click of the hall door closing behind her. He jumped up, tossed the blanket aside, and pulled his shoes onto his feet. He got out into the hall just in time to see her disappear into the elevator. Turning the other way, he sprinted to the stairwell and started down.

He burst into the lobby, out of breath, and saw the girl heading out of the hotel. He ran after her. She was still outside the hotel, standing at the curb, waiting for a cab. He grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"I'm going to see Trent," she said. "And you're not going to stop me."

"Oh, I'm not?"

She glanced to her right where a group of five men were approaching. They were carrying still and video cameras. Spying her, they started to increase their pace. Some even began yelling at them, although they were still too far away to make out the words. Rebecca turned back to him and smiled smugly.

"You called the media?" he asked.

"That's right and if you don't take your hands off me, I'm going to start screaming and making a scene. So, unless you want your picture plastered all over the news, I suggest you let go of me."

Mac released his hold on her. "What happened to your promise to your father not to ditch me?" he asked.

She shrugged dismissively. "Look, I'm going to go see Trent. I'll make a deal with you. You can come with me or you can head back upstairs and pretend that you didn't hear me leave."

"Alright, let me go and get Jack. The two of us will go with you."

"Nope, just you or no one at all," she said.

"I can't adequately protect you by myself."

"Oh, it's okay, Sweetie, I think you're adequate," she said in a patronizing tone and patted his cheek.

He just glared at her. As he stood weighing his options, a white and green taxi pulled up to the curb. Rebecca gave him a pointed look, eyebrows raised. With a sigh, he stepped over and opened the rear door of the cab for her.

Once they were both settled inside the cab and Rebecca had given the driver the address, it occurred to Mac to call Jack on his cell phone. Of course, then he remembered that he'd left it upstairs in the hotel suite. He'd been in such a hurry to catch up to Rebecca that he'd completely forgotten to grab it. Crap, he thought, they were on their own. He had a very bad feeling about this.

When they arrived at the club, Rebecca directed the driver to a back alley where the back entrance was located. She paid the driver and they got out of the cab. Mac followed her as she moved confidently past the garbage and recycling dumpsters to a metal door. A generic white sign had the club's name stenciled on it in plain black letters. The door had no exterior handle. Rebecca banged a fist on the door. After a moment, the door was opened by Trent. He smiled when he saw her and reached out for her, but stopped when he caught sight of Mac. The smile curdled on his face.

"I thought you were going to ditch him," Trent said.

"I tried."

"Great, well, get in here," he snapped.

Mac was confused. Trent's irritation seemed a bit disproportional to the situation. Did he really think she was going to be able to consistently skip out on her detail? And why did it matter so much that she did?

Stepping into the building, they found themselves in a large room that appeared to be some kind of employee lounge. There were a few cheap vinyl couches and chairs, two vending machines, one for soda, one for snacks, and an ancient TV set. The room was currently empty except for them.

"Listen, the club's still going to be open for another hour," Trent said. "Why don't you two go to my office. I'll have one of the girls bring you some drinks and I'll meet you there in a bit."

"That's okay, we'll just go hang out in the club while we wait for closing time," Rebecca said.

"Uh, no, don't do that… It's, uh, really dead tonight. There's no one interesting here tonight and… Look, just wait in my office, okay?"

"Okay."

He started to turn away, but she grabbed his arm. "Hey, where's my kiss?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah, right," he mumbled. He glanced at Mac uncomfortably and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

Mac found this amusing since the man hadn't shown any shyness about public displays of affection last night. Why was he so hesitant now? The man also seemed pretty tense, why? Why had the man asked Rebecca to come here, just to have her wait in his office? Something wasn't right.

Trent left to go about his business and Mac followed Rebecca down a hallway to a well-appointed office. A well-padded, leather couch sat against one wall. There was a large, cluttered desk with a couple of padded vinyl chairs in front of it. A tall, black, metal file cabinet stood behind the desk. Rebecca immediately flopped down on the couch and pulled out her cell phone. She began typing away. Mac sat down on one of the chairs, turning it so that he faced her.

"So, what's up with Trent? He seems tense," Mac said.

"Really? I didn't notice."

Of course, you didn't, Mac thought. You can't see anything past your own personal awesomeness. He did have to admit, however, that he was impressed by her ability to carry on a conversation while simultaneously texting on her phone.

"Why do you think Trent didn't want you going into the club?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said, with the kind of exasperation generally reserved for the stupidest of questions.

"That doesn't bother you? Him telling you what to do?"

She looked up from her phone at that. "Nobody tells me what to do, not even my father. I'm not bothered because I don't really care. I didn't really want to go to the club anyway. I just wanted to see Trent and I knew I'd have to wait. Waiting here is just as good as waiting in the club."

"Yeah, well, I think he's up to something. I don't trust him. I think we should leave."

"Oh, please, Trent worships me. He wouldn't do anything to hurt me."

"You sure about that? He didn't seem too thrilled to kiss you earlier."

"That's just because you were there.

"He didn't seem bothered by my presence last night."

"Well, there were other people around, too. It wasn't just you, standing there, staring at us."

Okay, Mac thought, fair enough, but he still didn't trust the guy. Something was very wrong here. Last night, Trent was supremely self-confident. Tonight, he was nervous and distracted. What was going on? Mac was about to ask Rebecca if he could borrow her phone to call Jack, when he got the answers to all his questions.

The door to the office opened and Trent came in followed by another man. This man was tall and very large, hired muscle large. He appeared to be about Trent's age and had close-cropped, graying, dark hair. He had a long, ugly scar that ran from his hairline, across the bridge of his nose and down one cheek. He was dressed in black jeans, a black t-shirt, with a black, leather suit jacket. Everything about the man screamed "mob".

"Bex, give me your phone," Trent said.

"Why?"

"Please…" he said, holding out his hand.

With a slight scowl, she complied. He handed the pink, glittery phone to the big guy, who dropped it on the floor and stomped on it several times, making sure that it was thoroughly disabled.

"Hey!" Rebecca yelled, lunging toward the man.

Trent held her back and pushed her down onto the couch. As Mac stood to intervene, Trent pulled a small Walther PPk from a hidden shoulder holster. He pointed the gun at Mac, who held his hands out from his body in surrender. The big guy stepped forward and frisked Mac. He removed the Swiss Army knife from Mac's pocket and showed it to Trent before pocketing it himself and stepping back.

"A Swiss Army knife?" Trent asked, incredulous. "That's it? What kind of bodyguard doesn't carry a gun? Man, I knew you were a joke, but…"

"What?" Rebecca cried.

"Okay, it's going to be like this," Trent said, ignoring her outburst and getting right down to business, "you two are going to stay here until the club closes. Then Mikhail, here, is going to take you to a safe house. You're going to call your father and tell him that he has 24 hours to wire five million dollars into my offshore account."

"Wait, this is a kidnapping?" Rebecca demanded. "You're holding me for ransom? What the hell Trent? I thought you loved me."

"Turns out he loves himself more," Mikhail said in a heavy Russian accent.

Okay, Russian mob, Mac thought, his mind already whirling, processing every bit of information, formulating scenarios, calculating risks. His eyes flitted around the room. There wasn't much to work with here, but maybe when they were moved… Assuming they didn't just kill him now. After all, he wasn't of any use to them.

"I'm sorry, Babe, it's nothing personal," Trent said. "I owe the Russians a lot of money, a lot of money. If I don't pay them, they're going to kill me. This is the only way I could think of to get it."

"Oh, my God, Trent, I trusted you! And this is how you treat me?" Rebecca ranted. "You are such a douche!"

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Mikhail moved to Rebecca and stuffed the cloth into her mouth. Producing a roll of duct tape from his other pocket he slapped a piece over her mouth. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. Depositing her on one of the vinyl chairs, he began securely taping her to it. Using the gun, Trent gestured Mac toward the other chair. After finishing with Rebecca, Mikhail taped Mac to his chair as well.

"Again, I'm sorry, Bex," Trent said and sounded as if he truly meant it. "But this is the way it has to be. Just do as you're told and they won't hurt you. They promised me. Now, we'll be back in a little while."

After the two had left, Mac could feel Rebecca's eyes boring into him like twin laser beams. He turned to look at her. "Okay, I'm sorry about the whole gun thing, but I did ask you to let me call Jack," he said.

She gave a huff through her nose and rolled her eyes. Mac was amazed at how much contempt she managed to convey through that one simple gesture.

"Look, I'll get us out of this. I'm not sure how yet, but I will. Just let me think."

-TBC-


	5. Chapter 5

1/4/18

Chapter 5

No matter how exhausted he was, even when he was injured, Jack never slept deeply when he wasn't in his own bed. Apparently not sleeping in his own bed was some kind of trigger to his subconscious that he was on a mission and therefore needed to stay vigilant. It was a trait that had saved his life on more than one occasion. As such, despite the plush comfort of the hotel's queen-sized bed and the snuggly softness of the down comforter, Jack was instantly wide awake when he thought he heard a sound coming from the room next door. He lay completely still, listening intently, but the only sound was Bozer's breathing, coming from the room's second bed. The room next door was silent.

But something had woken him, and was preventing him from going back to sleep. His "Spidey" sense was tingling like crazy. He sat up and grabbed his phone off the nightstand. 3:30 in the morning. No missed calls or messages. So, what was his subconscious trying to tell him?

When the knock on the door came, loud and insistent, it was almost a relief. He wasn't going crazy. He jumped out of bed and went to the door. Like Mac, he'd slept fully clothed. He opened it to find Melanie standing in the hall. The girl's hair was sleep-tousled and she was wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of men's plaid boxer shorts.

"What's wrong?" He asked, cutting right to the chase. The girl wouldn't be standing here in the middle of the night if something wasn't wrong.

"Both Mac and Rebecca are gone," she said.

Still holding his cell phone, Jack hit the speed dial button for Mac's phone. As he did, he tuned and headed back into the room. He was pleased to see that Bozer was also awake and getting out of bed. At Jack's suggestion, he had also slept in his clothes. Jack went to the night stand and retrieved his gun. He slipped it in the waistband of his jeans. There was no answer on Mac's phone, but Jack just hit re-dial.

"Boz, head over and wake up Cage and Riley," he said.

"Right."

Jack followed the younger man out of the room. He walked to the door of the room next door. He glanced back at Melanie and she handed him the key card. He slid it into the card reader and pushed the door open. He stepped cautiously inside. He could hear a soft buzzing sound coming from the direction of the couch and he moved toward it. He found Mac's phone lying on the coffee table, vibrating against the wood. He picked it up and glanced down at the display. The only missed calls listed were to the two from him, that he had just made.

"Jack, did you find something?" Cage asked, as she, Riley and Bozer joined him in the room. Cage had her own gun out, ready for action. Melanie hovered anxiously nearby, just trying to stay out of the way.

"Mac's phone," he said. "There are no messages or anything on it."

Switching off the phone, Jack quickly scrolled through the contacts and found Rebecca's phone number. He called that. He immediately got a recorded message telling him that the number he was trying to reach was not turned on or was out of service. He relayed this information to the others. As usual, Riley had her laptop with her, as it was her weapon of specialty, and she moved to sit on the couch, placing it on the coffee table in front of her. She opened it up and began typing.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked.

"Well, despite not having her phone turned on, I'm betting that Rebecca still has it with her. I'm going to try and track her GPS location."

"Yeah, but doesn't the phone need to be turned on for that to work?" Jack asked.

"Normally, yes, but given her history of ditching her security detail, the Secret Service installed special spyware on her phone that allows the GPS system to continue working even when the phone is turned off and, just in case, they gave me the pass codes to access that system."

"Nice," Jack said.

"Yeah, except I'm not finding a signal."

"Well, what does that mean?" Bozer asked.

"The way I understand it, the only way that tracker would stop working is if the phone was not just turned off, but completely destroyed."

"Okay, that doesn't sound good," Bozer said.

* * *

Mac had given up trying to break free. The goon who'd taped he and Rebecca up must have been former KGB because he'd done a thoroughly professional job of taping him to the chair. Mac could barely move. The office wasn't much help either. As he'd already noted, the office was furnished more for comfort than function. There was plenty of paperwork strewn across the desk, but there wasn't much in the way of technology, no computer, no calculator, not even an adding machine. How did this guy run his business? There wasn't even a single paperclip.

There was no land line either, but then again, if you're in bed with the Russian mob, a burner cell phone was probably the smarter option. This office seemed to be mainly for meeting with guests. But none of this really mattered, because the bottom line was that none of this was helpful to Mac.

Okay, Mac told himself, take a deep breath, stay calm. You can't do anything at the moment, so just wait for an opportunity to present itself. While he sat, he went through a series of isometric exercises, where he isolated specific muscle groups in turn and tensed them, holding the tension for several seconds before relaxing the muscles. It was a way to keep his muscles from cramping or his limbs from falling asleep. He wanted to make sure that his body was loose and ready to react when an opportunity did present itself.

There was no clock in the room, so he didn't know how long they'd been sitting there, but he'd gone through this exercise routine three times before the office door opened and Trent and the Russian goon entered. There was another man with them now. He was much less physically imposing than the goon, but no less intimidating. Although, average in height, build and everything else, there was an almost mechanical coldness in his icy gray eyes that spoke volumes about the man's lack of regard for human life. Mac knew without being told that this man was in charge and he'd killed before, calmly and dispassionately, like a child pulling the wings off a bug.

The man stepped up to stand in front of Mac. He looked down at the Phoenix agent for a long moment. "So, this is Angus MacGyver," he said. "Somehow, I was expecting someone a little more… seasoned, considering your impressive reputation."

Mac heard a snort of laughter from Rebecca and knew that she was reacting to hearing his first name. He turned to look at her. "Really?" he said. She gave him an unrepentant shrug.

Ignoring this exchange, the man said, "This could very well turn out to be a very lucrative coup for me. Not only will I get the money for Miss Blackwell, here, but I know of a buyer who will pay handsomely for you, Mr. MacGyver."

"Let me guess, Murdoc?" Mac asked.

"Hmm, I know of this Murdoc and his obsession with you. But I was not thinking of him. I should have. You're right, he would probably pay handsomely, as well. Perhaps an auction…"

Mac mentally kicked himself for inadvertently bringing up this idea, but who was this other buyer, the Ghost? Most of his enemies were safely behind bars, or underground, courtesy of Jack.

"Yes, this could be most advantageous for me," the man said. "Mikhail, please, cut our guests free. We will be taking them both to the safe house. But, be very careful of Mr. MacGyver. He has a reputation for being very resourceful."

* * *

"Melanie, can you think of anywhere Rebecca might have gone?" Jack asked the girl.

"I-I don't know… Uh, I know the reason she was so upset earlier was because she wanted to see her boyfriend, Trent, before we left LA…"

"Maybe she went back to the club and Mac followed her," Riley said.

"And something happened there," Cage added.

"Well, why didn't he call me and why'd he leave his cell phone?" Jack asked.

"Maybe she didn't give him a chance," Riley said. "You've seen how impulsive and head-strong she is. It's a place to start anyway."

"Yeah, it's a good idea. But I think we're going to need some more back up. Did the Secret Service boys give you a number to call?"

"Yep."

"Better call 'em. If nothing else, we can hand her over to them tonight. 'Cause I am sick of this girl's bullshit. Okay, Kids, pack 'em if you got 'em. It's time to cowboy up!"

As an exclamation point to that statement, he pulled back the slide of his gun with a sharp snap, chambering a round.

"How long have you been waiting to say that?" Riley asked, unimpressed.

Jack groaned. "Aw, man, why'd you have to go and ruin a perfectly good exit line?

"Sorry," Riley said, trying not to laugh. Cage and Bozer were conspicuously not looking at him as well.

"Come on, let's go," Jack said with a sigh.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

After cutting him from the chair, Mikhail had then taped Mac's hands together in front of him. The scary man said that he wanted to be able to keep an eye on Mac's hands, but this was definitely to Mac's advantage. They had done the same to Rebecca. They had also removed the tape from her mouth and removed the handkerchief, which was also to Mac's advantage.

"I don't know who you people are, but my dad's gonna bomb you all back to the stone age," she said as she and Mac were led through the back hallways and into the club proper. "You have no idea what you're getting yourselves into."

Ignoring her bluster, the man gestured to his goon to watch the prisoners, while he stepped a few feet away and pulled out a cell phone. He spoke animatedly in Russian with whoever was on the other end of the call. Mikhail kept his gun trained on Mac and Rebecca. They were standing in front of the long bar.

Mac looked around them. He noted two more goon-types standing near the street entrance to the club. There were two addition men loitering at either end of the large, rectangular-shaped room. So, counting Scary Guy and Mikhail, that was six badasses. Oh, yeah, and Trent. Mac made the logical assumption that they were all armed. These were not good odds, but Mac had dealt with worse odds before and survived.

With all the bright fluorescent lights on, the club looked very different than it did lit only with the garish, strobing club lights. Mac could now see the stains, some that looked like blood, on the concrete floor. The paint on the walls was cracked and flaking in spots. Trying to keep his actions casual and non-threatening, Mac glanced behind him. At the bar, all the glasses and utensils, including the knives, had been washed and put away for the day, in preparation of the night's business. Of course, all along the wall behind the bar were shelves of alcohol, lots of alcohol.

Mac's eyes zeroed in on an almost full bottle of Everclear, the 190-proof stuff. This was undiluted, pure grain alcohol and its sale was prohibited in many states, including California. Apparently, Trent was breaking more laws than just planning kidnappings with the Russian mob. But Trent's transgressions were, once again, Mac's gain. Now, he just needed a distraction…

Scary Guy ended his call and turned back to Mikhail. "Yuri is bringing the car around," he said. "We will load up our guests and head to the safe house. There, Trent will make his call to the White House and Yuri and I will make our calls, offering Mr. MacGyver, here, to the highest bidder." The man smiled at Mac in a most unsettling manner.

As though she had read Mac's previous thoughts, Rebecca gave him the distraction he needed, when she went into full-on diva melt-down, hissy-fit mode. "I am not going anywhere with you, Borscht-breath!" she said, stepping forward, getting right into the scary guy's face. "My father is the president of the United States of America and if you and your vodka-swilling, ex-KGB cronies don't let me go, right now, he's going send the entire might of the US military to blow your sorry asses right back to Moscow!"

As she continued with this tirade, poking the man forcefully in the chest with each invective, all eyes were drawn to her. Scary Guy seemed more amused than alarmed by her behavior and he simply stood there absorbing her words, while his men began drifting uneasily towards the confrontation, including Mikhail. Everyone seemed to have forgotten all about Mac, who began edging around the end of the bar.

Behind the bar, he found a stack of clean, folded bar rags and a lighter, probably used to light those fancy flaming drinks. He grabbed these and set them on the bar. He also grabbed the bottle of Everclear. Using a cork screw, he managed to tear off a strip from one of the rags, which he stuffed into the neck of the bottle. Crouching down behind the bar so he wouldn't be seen, he lit the end of the rag and waited a minute for it to fully catch fire. Standing, he tossed the bottle just to the right of the knot of arguing goons. The bottle shattered, splattering alcohol in a wide circle, which immediately burst into flames.

What Mac hadn't taken into account, was the fact that the entire club and all its furnishings, despite many cleanings, were fairly pickled in the alcohol that countless drunk patrons had spilled over the years, so the flames spread rapidly. With a squeal, Rebecca retreated quickly from the fire and moved to join Mac by the bar. Ear-splitting fire alarms began ringing, although no sprinkler system was activated, and Mac wondered if this was just one more example of Trent disregarding the law, and the lives of his patrons.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Mac grabbed Rebecca's hand and led her toward the back hallway, while most of the goons tried to deal with the fire. Behind them he was aware of the scary guy shouting over the alarm.

"Mikhail, they're trying to get out the back. Stop them!"

Running down the hallway, they ducked into the employee lounge. Mac slammed the door behind them. Noting that the snacks vending machine was positioned beside the door, he yelled to Rebecca. Between the two of them, they managed to tip the machine onto its side, so that it blocked the door. They could hear Mikhail shouting and pounding on the other side of the door.

They ran to the rear door and stepped out into the back alley. They ran to the right, toward the nearest street, but one of the generic goons stepped out from the corner of the building, a sawn-off shotgun raised and ready to shoot. They spun around to head in the opposite direction, but Scary Guy was waiting for them there, his own pistol raised. They were trapped.

"That's enough fun and games, Mr. MacGyver," the scary man said. "I am gratified to see that your reputation was well earned, but if you prove to be more trouble than you're worth, I will be forced to eliminate you, but I would rather not do that. Now, surrender yourself and the girl and, perhaps, you can live."

Mac became aware of distant sirens that seemed to be approaching them. Would this man allow him to stall long enough for the authorities to arrive? He had to try.

"Yeah, sure, Murdoc's going to let me live," he said. "I think I'd get a quicker death at your hands."

"Oh, it's not definite that Mr. Murdoc would win the bidding. After all, Mr. Tulpa has many resources at his disposal and I don't know what his plans for you are."

"Tulpa? Who's this Tulpa?"

"You don't know him? Strange, he seems quite interested in you. He has offered a hefty sum for your capture, alive."

Mac was genuinely intrigued now. He couldn't remember ever crossing anyone named Tulpa. But then again, the word tulpa wasn't really a name, it was a concept, and a paranormal one at that. It was believed to be a being which was entirely created through spiritual or mental powers, a literal manifestation of intellect. Was this some sort of code name? But for whom? Who had he pissed off now?

"Mr. MacGyver, I know you're just trying to stall for time, so I will give you just thirty more seconds before I shoot you."

"Or I could just shoot you," a familiar voice with a Texas drawl called from above.

An indistinct dark shape seemed to leap from the roof of the building, firing a pistol as it fell. Scary Guy dropped in a spray of blood and Jack landed a short distance away, releasing the repelling line from his belt as he did. Another shot rang out from the other end of the alley and the shotgun-toting generic goon dropped as well. Cage stepped into the alley, as she holstered her own gun.

"Did you really need to repel down from the roof?" Mac asked as he and Jack shared a manly hug/back-slap thing.

"Well, you know how I like to make an entrance. Besides, it kinda makes me feel like Batman," he said with a sheepish smile.

"I don't think Batman has a Texas drawl."

"Well, we can't all be perfect."

"Good to see you as well," Mac said to Cage as she joined the group. He gave the Aussie operative a quick hug of thanks as well.

"Yeah, I'll leave the theatrics to Jack, but I'll still get the job done," she said.

"Yeah, but I'll get the extra artistic points from the Russian judges," Jack said.

"Not these Russians," Mac said.

"Well, okay, not them."

"Hey, what about my performance?" Rebecca asked.

Mac gave her a confused look.

"My little tantrum earlier…"

"Wait, you did that on purpose?"

"Yeah, I heard what that guy said about you being resourceful. I figured you could use a distraction. So, I gave you one. And it's a good thing you acted when you did, because I was running out of things to threaten that guy with."

Mac was torn between being impressed by her poise and quick-thinking and terrified by her complete faith in his ability to get them out of their situation. Jack and the others knew him and were accustomed to his methods, but Rebecca had no reason to trust him. He gave her a hug as well.

"You get the Oscar," he said.

The Secret Service team had taken custody of the remaining goons and Trent by the time the LA police arrived. The fire department quickly had the blaze under control. Mac and his team quietly melted into the background while Special Agent Martin, Rebecca's usual guard, dealt with the police. When he was finished giving his statement, he joined them.

"Part of me wants to rip you a new asshole for allowing Rebecca to get into this situation," he said to Mac, "but I know how she can be and you did get her out unscathed. And caught Viktor Rostokov, a known Russian mobster, so the other part of me wants to shake your hand. And since you also got that creep, Trent, away from Rebecca, I'll go with the handshake."

The two men shook hands. "If you don't mind," Martin continued, "we'll be taking charge of Rebecca right now. We've already had a team empty out the hotel room. They've taken Melanie to the airport. We'll be joining them and flying back to DC ASAP."

"Great," Mac said, relieved. "Say goodbye to Melanie for us."

"Will do. Uh, speaking of goodbyes, Rebecca would like to say hers."

He stepped back and allowed the girl to join the team.

"Okay, I know I was a pain in the ass, and I'm sorry," she said. "But that was a blast! Best vacay, ever! Can we do this again next year?"

"NO!" they all yelled in unison.

She laughed and stepped closer to Mac. "You're going to miss me," she said and, before he could stop her, she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a long and deep kiss.

After a moment Agent Martin cleared his throat uncomfortably and said, "Uh, Miss Blackwell, the plane is waiting…"

She released Mac and gave him a smug smile as he tried to regain his composure, his cheeks bright red. "See you 'round," she said.

The team watched as the Secret Service bundled the girl into the back of an SUV and drove away. They all started for their own vehicles. As they walked, Bozer started singing softly, "Ooh, Mac's got a girlfriend…"

As the others immediately took up the chant as well, Mac said, "Oh, my God, you guys are so immature… Shut up!"

-End scene-


End file.
